


A Beautiful Mess

by wintermute



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A little angst, Accidental Pregnancy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Time, Get Together, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, a little hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:52:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintermute/pseuds/wintermute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint almost laughed. HR-153 was the form that every omega agent had to fill out that designated, in the event of a heat-related emergency, an alpha that they would allow to help them. Clint had put in Coulson’s name at the time to try and get a rise out of the man. He had no idea that Coulson would actually consent and sign off on it, or that they’d actually be in this kind of situation in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Mess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ralkana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/gifts).



> Part of the Lump of Coul Exchange, written for Ralkana. I had to cut it short because of time constraints, so expect a follow up some time soon!
> 
> Mention of infertility, and as with most A/B/O fics, warning for potential dub-con (there’s prior consent given in the story for the sex pollen-like situation).

“Hawkeye, there’s two more on your seven o’clock,” Coulson’s voice came through his ear piece and Clint ducked in response, just in time as a leg came flying over his head. He was really liking this new heat signature tracking system that R&D came up with. Combined with the tracking chip embedded in Clint’s hip, it allowed Coulson to warn Clint of the general locations of enemy combatants. It was quite nifty; Coulson must be loving it.

He swung around, catching the first goon right in the knee with a right hook then knocked him over on his back with an elbow to the jaw, the goon’s head hit the ground with a loud crack. The second goon came flying towards him and Clint caught his fist, rolled back and used the momentum to throw the guy over. He followed through and caught him in a chokehold, and waited until he passed out.

“Thanks, Coulson,” Clint muttered back into his comm with a smirk on his face. “Enjoying the show so far?”

“It’s… passable,” Coulson replied with his deadpan tone, but Clint knew that his handler would have a similar amused expression on his face. “Get out of there; two large groups converging on your location from either ends of the corridor.”

They were somewhere just outside of Minsk, on a mission infiltrating an arms dealer’s secret cache. The preliminary intel they received indicated that the target had gotten his hands on a shipment of old Russian military cast-offs that contained Hydra tech. Clint had no idea how the Russians got their hands on Hydra tech in the first place, but that wasn’t his problem. Clint’s job had been to confirm the existence of the tech and report back so SHIELD could send in a larger strike team to deal with it. Coulson had come with him as ops support.

It should’ve been a cakewalk, except the part where it wasn’t. They’d found more guards than they anticipated; every inch of the compound was being watched by someone. It didn’t matter how quiet Clint was and how soft he was on his feet, there was no way to get around without someone noticing him. Clint snuck around on the rafters, taking out the guards that he came across, but someone was bound to find one of the guards Clint had dropped and sound the alarm. Coulson had no choice at that point but to call the mission and tell Clint to retreat, which was, of course, when the alarm went off.

“Uh, too late. They’re here.”

Clint shot two more guards coming from around the corner but he was standing in a straight corridor with very little cover, and more guards were already blocking both ends. He kicked open the door closest to him, went inside and slammed the door shut.

The room looked like a storage area littered with crates. Clint pushed a stack on a pallet against the door to stop his pursuers from entering. Not that those would hold for long. Clint checked a few of the crates, looking for anything he could use. He cursed out loud when he found the crates filled with various types of weaponry but no ammo. There was some random junk in other crates but none of them appeared to be bullets or anything he could use to eliminate the army about to bust in the door. So much for his hopes of extra ammo. The C4 might be useful but that really wasn’t an option Clint wanted to entertain unless he got really desperate. He had already checked the perimeter and found no other obvious way out of that room except the way from where he came.

Shit. Clint thumbed his comm, “Yeah… I could use some directions here, Coulson. I’m stuck in a storage room full of empty guns and random crap, and I’m running low on ammo. Any vents I can use to bypass the village people converging on my position?”

“Vents are too small. Stay put, I’m coming to get you,” Coulson said, and Clint could hear him cocking more than just his sidearm in the background.

There were goons outside ramming at the door, which was old and wooden and not exactly the best at being a barrier. Clint crouched down behind some crates and inventoried his ammo. “Better hurry up, boss. That door’s not going to last for much longer. Especially if they get smart and start shooting.”

“ETA five minutes,” came the reply. “Coulson out.”

 

~*~

 

In the end, it took Coulson less than four minutes to clear a bloody path to where Clint had been pinned down, but not before someone got off a lucky shot and blew up a crate filled with compressed gas canisters a few feet away from Clint. He got a noseful of the gas and coughed at the sickly sweet smell. He wheezed his way out the room to join Coulson. He thought about mentioning the gas to his handler, but since nothing happened immediately, he shrugged it off to the back of his mind and concentrated on the fresh ammo Coulson handed him as they fought their way back out of the compound.

It wasn’t until they were making their way towards a safe house in the suburbs that Clint realized that something was wrong.

“Barton?” Coulson’s voice sounded a little far away even though they were hiking side-by-side through a small, snow-covered park. “Barton!”

The sharp, commanding tone of Coulson’s voice jolted Clint out of his daze. “Sir?”

“You all right?” Coulson sounded concerned as he reached out to touch the back of his hand against Clint’s forehead. It sent a funny feeling straight down to Clint’s gut. His breath hitched for just a second. “You feel a bit warm.”

“‘M fine,” Clint waved a hand, hitching his gear up higher. It was the end of February, and it was fucking cold as the bitter wind blew straight against their faces. “Probably just the adrenaline wearing off.”

He tried to focus on the road, but even he noticed how his attention was slipping as time went by. He was breathing harder than he normally given their current levels of physical activity, and he was _warm_ , which made the cold worse.

And then he remembered the last time he felt like this.

Clint literally froze mid-step, his jaw dropping and his eyes wide. No, it couldn’t be.

The gas. Clint suddenly remembered. It must’ve been the gas; he was sure he hadn’t been exposed to anything unknown or dangerous except for the gas.

Sometimes he fucking hated being born an omega.

Okay, make that most of the time, because there were always idiots who thought they could talk down to him or try to order him around without getting punched in the face.

But he was on suppressants, he shouldn’t…

“Clint?” Coulson’s voice was like a sharp cold knife cutting straight through the overwhelming warmth and fuzziness radiating out of him. “Talk to me. What’s your status?”

Clint took a deep breath of cold, fresh air and shook his head vigorously for a second to clear his mind. “I’ll be fine. It’s just so fucking cold out here. Think we can move a little faster so we don’t freeze our asses off? Or any other body parts for that matter.”

Coulson snorted, but nevertheless picked up the pace slightly. Clint wordlessly followed.

The thing was, this—going into heat and being stuck with his handler, alone and somewhere remote—was one of the scenarios that Clint’d always dreamed of in his deepest, darkest fantasies. Like those cheap drugstore romance novels Natasha loved but always denied ever reading.

Clint knew it wasn’t healthy, indulging his crush on Coulson like this, but he couldn’t help it. Coulson had been the only alpha he’d ever been able to trust completely, and that meant something. Which was why Clint would do almost anything to keep Coulson from finding out his little crush on the man, because he didn’t want to jeopardize the single most important relationship—friendship?—in his life.

They were almost at the safe house when Clint was hit by another dizzying surge of heat. It nearly knocked him spinning, the need blooming in him. He gulped in air, trying to breath through it until they were at least in the door.

And then Coulson was suddenly there right in his space. “Barton!”

The sharp tone of his name shot straight through Clint’s brain. He shook his head wildly trying to clear the fog as he panted. He could feel a twinge at the base of his spine, a desperate need demanding to be quenched. Fuck.

“Shit,” Coulson said, his voice and his scent so close to him. Clint unconsciously arched towards the source, wanting to be closer to the intoxicating scent of an alpha. “You’re in heat!”

Clint panted, shaking his head, trying to curl into himself. Coulson was so close now, close enough for Clint to gulp in desperately the alpha’s calming scent. His glove-covered hands clawed at Coulson’s parka, looking for purchase to hold onto Coulson and never let go. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Clint knew that he needed to stop, needed to get himself under control so he wouldn’t do something stupid, like jumping his handler, but it was too fucking hard to concentrate with Coulson’s pungent alpha scent surrounding him. “No…” He tried to resist, tried to pull away, but instead he just leaned in closer.

Clint let out a soft whimper when Coulson reached out and pulled Clint flush against him.

“Barton? Barton, come on. Look at me,” Coulson murmured into his ear, and the calm, steady voice combined with the alpha’s scent drew Clint’s attention like moths towards flame. Clint looked up, his eyes barely able to focus on Coulson’s. “I’ll be right here, okay? I need you to stand up and we’re going to make it inside first. Got it?”

Clint nodded.

“Good. Come on.” Coulson wrapped an arm around Clint’s back, hauling the man up to help him up the path then the steps to their safe house. “That’s it. Almost there.”

Clint whined when Coulson released him. “Don’t…”

“Ssh… It’s okay. I’m just going to clear and secure the perimeter first,” Coulson said, gently sweeping his knuckles over Clint’s sweat-damp forehead and down the side of his face. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Clint nodded. He’d be fine. He’d have to be fine. Coulson was going to help him get a cold shower to cool him down and it would be fine.

Right?

 

~*~

 

Phil cursed a blue streak in his mind as he moved through the small apartment that served as their safe house to clear the space. What the hell happened? Barton had sounded fine before Phil went in, but something had obviously happened in the four minutes it took Phil to get to him. He didn’t even know if he could calm Barton down enough to ask him about what had happened.

He sighed. Of all of the things that could have gone wrong on a mission, this was not remotely close to all that Phil had expected. As Barton’s senior agent in charge, Phil knew his agent’s status; the doctors knew enough to give Phil a copy of Barton’s medical report whenever the agent had to go to the med bay. Phil knew that Barton was on suppressants—all omegas at SHIELD were for safety and security reasons.

What a total FUBAR.

What was worse, was that whatever the chemical or biological agent that had triggered Barton’s heat, had also sped up the onset. His heat was coming on too fast and there was nothing either of them could do but to let it run its course. Barton was going to need an alpha to help him through, and Phil was the only one that could do it.

Phil never imagined himself to be in this situation. He knew theoretically that it could happen and they’d had contingencies put in place for this, but he still had trouble wrapping his head around it.

The thing with Barton—Clint, because he’d never really been Barton in Phil’s head no matter what Phil told himself—the thing with Clint, was that Phil was in love with him. Had been for years, if Phil was honest with himself. It’d been a long, hard road forging this partnership between them, learning about the man behind the bow and the nonchalant smirk, and everything Phil learned just made him fall harder. Phil wanted to be the alpha to give Clint everything he’d ever wanted, even if Clint was a capable omega and probably didn’t need an alpha.

Phil had never even considered acting on his feelings either, content with the role of his handler and keeping him safe. Clint trusted him, and Phil would never betray his trust. He knew how hard it was for Clint to open up and let someone in, and he would do anything to never lose that privilege.

All of that was about to change. Phil just hoped they could still salvage their working relationship after all of this.

He was back at Clint’s side as soon as he had the place cleared. He had wanted to make a cursory check that they had enough supplies stocked, but that would take too long. The knowledge of an omega in need pulled at him, demanding that he stay near Clint.

“Barton?” Phil shook Clint’s shoulder lightly where he was curled up on the floor near the door with all of his gear still trapped to his person. “Come on. You need to sit up so I can get all of this off of you.”

Clint’s skin was flushed and hot to the touch, and he was sweating like he had just ran a marathon. Phil could smell the exquisite scent of an omega in heat even through the thick layers of clothing, and it took every ounce of self-discipline for Phil to not act on his alpha instincts when the scent hit him full on as he unzipped Clint’s parka. He helped him sit up and remove his backpack, parka and holsters, then pulled him up to sit on the sofa. Clint was listing towards him, fingers gripping tight on Phil’s shirt as Phil removed his own coat, suit jacket and tie.

“Please…” Clint’s voice was hoarse as he buried his face to Phil’s neck, nuzzling at Phil’s skin as he breathed in deep. “God, you smell so good. I need…”

“Barton!” Phil barked, holding Clint’s face between his hands so he could look Clint in the eyes. “Focus.”

The distressed whimper that spilled out of Clint’s lips almost broke Phil’s resolve. He shook his head to clear his mind and continued, letting a little of alpha leak into his voice to make sure it registered in Clint’s heat-addled mind. He hated doing this, using his influence on others, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “This is what’s going to happen: you’re going go take a shower and cool off, and then you’re going to eat something. We’ll deal with this one step at a time. Got it?” Phil waited for Clint to acknowledge with a nod. “Good.”

 

~*~

 

The lukewarm shower was a shock to the system against his heat-flushed skin. Clint gasped when the water hit, but it helped clear his head a little as he let the water wash away both his and Coulson’s scents.

He stepped out of the shower when his head was coherent enough to think properly. Well, as much as he was able to given the circumstances. Coulson had left a towel and some sweats just inside the door for him, which Clint was grateful.

There was a steaming mug of what looked like microwaved soup on the coffee table, and Coulson was standing on the far side of the living room, staring out a slit between the curtains when he came out. His head snapped towards Clint as soon as he was in the room.

“Thanks,” Clint said for the lack of anything better. He knew he had to eat. He forced himself to sip at the broth but he could barely taste anything with his senses flooded with hormone.

“Any idea what happened?” Coulson asked when Clint was done with the mug. Clint could tell how much he was holding back by the way his knuckles turned white as he held his fist tight against his pant legs.

“There was this gas, back there. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I…” Clint brought his legs up, curling in on himself so he could bury his face into his knees. “Fuck. This is so fucked up. I should’ve been more careful—”

“Hey.” Coulson was suddenly in front of him, coaxing his head up with gentle fingers. The musky scent of the alpha was both calming and arousing, and Clint wanted nothing more than to latch himself to Coulson and hang onto him for dear life. “None of that. You had no idea what was in there. It’s not your fault. We’ll deal with this, one step at a time.”

Clint just shook his head.

“Come on, Barton. Talk to me.”

“It’s just… I…” Clint swallowed hard. “We both know what needs to happen, Coulson. You shouldn’t have to compromise yourself for me.”

“Barton. Clint,” Coulson said, softly, and Clint couldn’t help the quiet whine that escaped his throat as he fought the instinct to move towards Coulson. “You have my name on your HR-153, and I signed off on it. I’m pretty sure that means that I’m okay with this.”

Clint almost laughed. HR-153 was the form that every omega agent had to fill out that designated, in the event of a heat-related emergency, an alpha that they would allow to help them. Clint had put in Coulson’s name at the time to try and get a rise out of the man. He had no idea that Coulson would actually consent and sign off on it, or that they’d actually be in this kind of situation in the first place.

“You’re kind of the only person I trust to…” Clint murmured. “You know…”

“Then let me help you, Clint,” Coulson said. “Please.”

Clint nodded.

He stayed like that for a long while, letting Coulson’s presence calm him, until the next wave of heat hit like a freight train. His skin suddenly felt too tight, flushed and clammy. He could literally feel his attention slip as the heat began to flare from his belly, could feel the bloom of slick at the seat of his pants. “Fuck… It’s coming… Too fast, I can’t…”

“Ssh…” Coulson was suddenly there, cooing at him as he ran his fingers through Clint’s hair. Clint wanted to cry, to beg, wanted nothing except for Coulson to sooth away the burning fire in the pit of his stomach. He was so close, and he smelled so good. Clint caught himself arching into Coulson, trying to get closer to the alpha that would make everything better.

Clint didn’t know how they made it to the bedroom. He only vaguely remembered being pulled to his feet and the warmth of Coulson’s arms around him, keeping him calm as he helped Clint out of his clothes. As soon as he was naked, he scrambled onto the bed on all fours, something that was purely instinct since the rational part of his brain had stopped being able to tell him what to do a while ago. All he knew was the enticing scent of the alpha behind him, the alpha that was going to claim him.

 

~*~

 

Phil couldn’t help the soft gasp when Clint settled on the bed on his hands and knees, presenting himself with his ass high in the air, already slick and his cock hanging full and heavy between his thighs.

Clint was beautiful. Fierce and beautiful with lean muscle and smooth skin, like nothing Phil had ever seen, and Phil had never wanted anyone so badly. He wanted to claim Clint as his own, even though he couldn’t. Arousal flooded Phil’s mind, making him hard and aching. All of his instincts told him to go ahead and just take what was rightfully his, but Phil held tightly onto the last thread of rational thought. He was not going to hurt Clint in anyway.

Phil approached Clint gently so as to not spook the omega. Clint tensed when Phil placed one hand on his raised ass, and immediately relaxed as Phil soothed him with tender touches, adding his other hand and sliding both up his spine to his shoulders and back. The feeling of soft skin stretching taut over firm muscle against his palm was enough for Phil to harden fully, the bare hint of a knot forming at the base of his thick cock.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Phil couldn’t help the words spilling from his mouth. “Look at you, so slick and ready for me. Ready to be taken.”

“Please… Fuck…” Clint moaned into the bed sheet, struggling to hang onto the last thread of rational thought as his arms straining to hold himself up.

“Ssh… It’s okay. Just let go. I’m here. I’ll take care of you,” Phil crouched over him, balancing himself on one hand and smoothing the other up Clint’s flank, as he whispered into Clint’s ear. He stifled a groan of his own as his hard cock nudged against Clint’s ass. “I’ve got you. You can let go now. There’s a good boy. My perfect omega.”

Pushing himself back, Phil settled behind Clint on the bed. He teased Clint’s entrance with two fingers, rubbing at the ring of muscle, and watched as Clint tremble lightly at the slightest touch. Phil pressed down with his fingers, letting them slip past the threshold, spreading them to test the omega’s receptiveness. The wet heat of Clint’s ass was tight around him, but yielded easily when Phil began scissoring his fingers, the omega’s thready gasps punctuating his every move.

Clint keened when Phil added a third finger, and pushed his ass back onto Phil’s digits, unconsciously seeking more. He was so ready. Phil took a deep breath and let the omega’s alluring scent, stronger now that he was fully in heat, wash over him, drowning out everything else. There was only one important thing to Phil at that very moment, and that was to take the omega and make him his. Leaning forward, Phil peppered kisses lovingly across Clint’s muscled back, lined himself up, and felt the head of his cock slip through the tight ring of muscle easily.

The heat inside of Clint was incredible, and the tightness was just right. Phil growled when he bottomed out, feeling, for the first time in his life, settled, now that the omega he’d always wanted was his. Finally.

“Mine…” he whispered hoarsely into Clint’s ear. “All mine.”

Mine to take, to love, to behold, to cherish… Phil repeated the words in his mind like a mantra as he lowered his head to bite at the ball of Clint’s shoulder, leaving an impressive bruise like some kind of possessive declaration.

“Yours,” Clint whimpered, his eyes and nose running. His entire being was focused on the spot where they were joined as one. Clint begged. “Please, I need—Fuck! Yours! All yours! Just—please, Phil!”

Phil was never very good at denying Clint anything. “Yes, my love. Ssh… I’ve got you.”

He wrapped a hand around Clint’s cock, flushed pink and a perfect size. He gave Clint a gentle squeeze as he pulled out and thrust back in in quick succession. Clint wailed as pleasure raked through him. “Ahh!”

“You’re perfect, my perfect omega. You’re doing so good for me. All for me,” Phil punctuated his words with nipping kisses all along Clint’s shoulder, his hand gripping tight around Clint’s cock as he jacked him off. “I want you to come for me now, baby.”

It was all Clint needed to climax, spurting thick ropes of cum all over Phil’s hands and his own belly, Phil’s name on his tongue. His ass clenched reflexively, pulsating around Phil’s cock, and it was the most incredible thing Phil had ever felt. He snapped his hips a few times in quick succession before he bottomed out inside of Clint and his knot began to swell, tying them together.

Beneath him, Clint was shaking like a leaf from his recent orgasm and from the feeling of Phil’s cock wedged right up against his prostate. Phil carefully flipped them onto their sides in a controlled tumble so he could wrap himself around Clint, using his own presence to sooth the omega. Clint was barely coherent, but his body instinctively began to bear down on Phil’s knot, pushing Phil over the edge. Phil came with a muffled growl for what felt like forever, as he filled Clint with spurt after spurt of his seed.

Phil didn’t quite remember how he managed to pull the blanket over the two of them before they both passed out from sheer exhaustion. There was a nagging thought on his sleep-addled mind of something forgotten, but it was banished by the content feeling of accomplishment and wholeness and something else wonderful underscored by a sense of belonging as sleep dragged Phil under.

 

~*~

 

His heat had cleared up by the following morning, and after an awkward clean up, they had called for evac and Clint had been sent straight to medical. Medical gave Clint the all clear once they’d had the chance to run blood work for any traces of chemical or biological contaminant that had caused his spontaneous heat.

That was five weeks ago.

Clint stared at his own reflection in the mirror and sighed before he left he quarters. He wanted to grab a quick bite in the mess before heading to prep for the training session he was supposed to supervise first thing in the morning.

He and Coulson, they hadn’t talked about that night in the five weeks since they came home. Except for the quick notation in his medical file and one line in Coulson’s final mission report, it was like it’d never happened.

But it had. Even if he was too far gone with heat to remember much, he remembered the alpha’s gentle caresses, the way he made Clint feel like the most precious thing in the world, the words that were whispered into Clint’s ears with such tenderness it made Clint ache with longing at night.

He knew that it’d been a mistake. A mistake that had caused this rift between them.

Clint’d been steadily avoiding Coulson, only seeing the alpha if there was a briefing, and only talked to him when necessary. In hindsight, it was probably the worst thing that he could do, but he had to. He needed to keep his distance so as to not think about that night, or imagine that it had any significance, that it was anything more than heat of the moment.

He’d expected Coulson to call him on it, order him to his office and address it like it was just business. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did.

Clint wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

Coulson was already in the mess grabbing coffee when Clint got there. Instead of facing the man, Clint headed for the hot food counter. He was surprised when Coulson walked up behind him in line.

“Agent Barton,” Coulson said, bland as ever.

So it was like that, huh? Well, two could play that game. “Agent Coulson.” Clint said, then tacked a “sir” at the end after a pause. If Clint hadn’t worked with the man for so long, he would’ve missed Coulson’s flinch. Clint had no idea what that meant.

Before Coulson could say anything else, the line moved and the man behind the counter was asking Clint what he wanted on his plate.

The smell of greasy eggs and bacon wafted over him, and while the smell normally made Clint’s stomach growl hungrily, it made Clint sick to his stomach. He covered his mouth quickly and took a deep breath, which only made it worse.

“Excuse me,” he said quickly before running out the mess to the nearest washroom. He dry heaved into the toilet bowl as soon as he closed the door on a stall, and slumped down on the floor when he no longer felt his guts were trying to make a run for it. What the hell?

“Barton?”

Clint’s head snapped up at the sound of his name. Coulson. Shit.

“Barton, you okay in there?”

Clint wanted to answer, but his stomach had other ideas. The door behind him opened slowly as he gagged over the toilet for the second time.

“Barton?” A hand rested gently at the small of his back, so warm it made Clint want to arch into it, as he tried to breathe through the urge to throw up again. “Clint? What’s wrong?”

Clint wanted to cry at the gentle tone of Coulson’s voice. “No idea. Probably just a stomach flu.” He shifted so he could sit down on the floor, his back against the stall wall. Coulson reached up to brush his sweaty bangs away from his forehead. “Shit. I have training in an hour.”

Coulson just scowled at him.

“No.” His handler said sternly. “You’re going back to your quarters to rest. The training can be rescheduled.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Coulson stood up and helped Clint off the floor. “You’re going back right now to sleep this off or I’ll make you.”

Clint wanted to argue but something about the look in Coulson’s eyes made his mouth click shut. He huffed out an indignant “fine.”

“And if it doesn’t get better, you’re going to medical to get checked out.”

Clint wanted to roll his eyes but he was afraid that it would make him puke again. “I said fine.”

He left the washroom quickly, ignoring the call of his name behind him.

It didn’t get better. Clint could barely keep any food down for most of that first day, and after calling in sick for the third time that week, Coulson came and dragged Clint down to medical.

“You don’t need to do this, you know,” Clint complained with his eyes closed, breathing deeply so the motion of the elevator didn’t make it worse. “I can get myself down there.”

“Would you?” Coulson’s voice was skeptical.

“Probably not,” Clint sighed. “It’s just a nasty bug. It’ll go away on its own.”

“Or it could be something worse,” Coulson said, then in a softer voice, he added, “You look miserable.”

That was because he was, Clint didn’t get to say so as the elevator arrived at the correct floor.

“Go on. I’ll be in my office. Come see me when you’re done?”

Coulson’s words sounded almost like pleading, and Clint had no choice but to nod. “I will.”

 

~*~

 

Clint nursed the fizzy water the nurse gave him after drawing a few vials of blood, and sat idly on the exam table waiting for the doctor to come back. His stomach still felt queasy but the water had settled it a bit. At least he hadn’t felt like puking his guts out in the last little while.

“Agent Barton,” Dr. Wallace greeted as he strolled back into the room, flipping through the charts with a frown on his face before looking up at him with a reserved smile.

“Hey doc,” Clint greeted back. “So, am I dying like Coulson seems to think I am?”

“No, you’re not dying.” Wallace chuckled. “On the contrary, you’re in perfect health.”

“So why do I feel like my insides are about to run off and conquer Russia?” Clint buried his face into his free hand, groaning.

“Agent Barton, are you on any contraceptives?” Wallace asked as he flipped through the top sheet of Clint’s chart. “Says here you’re on suppressants.”

“No,” Clint said, biting his bottom lip for a beat before adding, “I… was on some bad black market stuff when I was younger. It messed up my body chemistry pretty bad. I was told I couldn’t ever get pregnant so I never bothered.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting,” Wallace hummed, tapping his pen against his chin. “Because you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“The reason you’ve been throwing up. You’re pregnant,” Wallace said, matter-of-factly. “What you’re experiencing is morning sickness.”

“What?” Clint asked dumbly, too stunned for words.

“Uh-huh. You’re about five weeks along, based on your hormone levels.” Wallace nodded. “That coincides with your last recorded heat.” He was kind enough to not mention the circumstances that led to the heat. “It was a good thing that we didn’t put you back on suppressants. It would’ve messed with your hormone levels and cause problem with the pregnancy later down the road.”

Clint was speechless. He understood the doctor’s words, but he was having trouble reconciling them with everything else he knew. How…

The doctor proceeded in telling him about what he should be doing, if he intended on keeping the baby, and the procedures if he wasn’t going to. Clint silently sat through it all, staring at his hands, which were stacked on top of his belly.

It didn’t feel real, but the reality of the situation was making it difficult to breathe.

Clint nodded when the doctor told him to talk to his partner about it, and left. He had every intention to go back to his quarters and bury his head in the sands of denial, but his legs brought him to Coulson’s office instead. He didn’t even notice until he was standing in front of the door.

There were people passing by him giving him weird looks. Clint ignored them all and knocked on Coulson’s door. “Come in.”

“Hey,” Clint greeted, settling down on the couch opposite Coulson’s desk out of habit.

“Hey!” Coulson looked up, saw Clint then immediately got up and settled down on the couch next to Clint. “How did it go?”

Clint was still staring at his hands. He didn’t know how to tell Coulson. He didn’t know how to soften the blow that their one unintentional coupling had resulted in a life growing in Clint’s belly.

The thing was, Clint had already decided to keep the baby. He knew he was going to the moment he heard the doctor tell him he was pregnant. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Coulson wanted it gone.

“Clint?”

“I’m pregnant,” Clint blurted out.

“You’re what?” Clint refused to look at Coulson, but the shock in his voice was clear. “You’re… but you… I thought…”

“I’m pregnant. It’s yours and I’m keeping it. I’ll go on light duty and phase out into admin or training. I’ll go on half-time so I can raise the kid… I don’t care,” Clint said quickly so Coulson couldn’t cut in. “I’ve always wanted a kid, but with the job and my fucked up biology I never thought I could. I know you never planned for this and I know you don’t really want any of this, but please don’t ask me to get rid of it, Coulson. Please?”

“Clint. Clint!”

Clint could hear Coulson call to him, before a pair of hands found their way to his face, turning his head. He squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment before opening them hesitantly when Coulson didn’t let him go. There were some things that flickered through Coulson’s eyes way too fast for even Clint’s eyes to catch.

“I would never ask you to do that, Clint. God!” Coulson sighed, then pulled Clint into his arms. Clint froze for a moment before letting himself relax into Coulson. “If you want to keep it, then we’ll keep it.”

“We?” Clint asked, his voice muffled by Coulson’s jacket lapel. Being this close, Clint could easily smell the familiar, calming scent of the alpha. The reminder of that fateful night had Clint pulling away from Coulson despite his desire to stay right where he was forever and let Coulson shelter him against the storms.

“Yes. We, Clint.” Coulson looked almost… dejected when Clint pulled away. He must be seeing things. “I want to. I want to be a father to our baby. I want to be there for you.”

“But…” Clint looked away. “Coulson, I can take care of myself. You don’t have to do this out of some fucked up sense of duty and responsibility for what is basically a one night stand.”

“Is that what you think we are?” Coulson’s words had a chill to it that made Clint flinch.

“I don’t want us to be,” Clint muttered, his eyes prickling. Fucking hormones. Now that he knew why he was feeling emotional it was like a flood gate had opened, and he was having trouble keeping a tight reign on his emotions. “But you don’t want me. I kept waiting for you to say something but you never did. You want to pretend that this never happened, I get it.”

“Oh, fucking hell!” Coulson swore, and it must be very bad because he never swore. Clint shrank in on himself out of instinct. He was surprised when Coulson pulled him into his arms again in a tight hug. “I never said anything because I thought you needed space. I thought you didn’t want it and needed time to figure things out. I was afraid that if I pushed I’d lose you forever.”

Coulson paused to press a soft kiss to Clint’s temple. “I love you, Clint. Had for a long time. God!” A kiss to the tip of Clint’s nose. “And I want the chance to raise a child with you, you idiot. I want to be your alpha, your mate, and dote on you as much as you’ll allow me to.”

“Really?” Clint looked up at Coulson, his eyes searching for any hint of doubt in Coulson’s baby blues.

“Really.” Coulson smiled, and it was one of those real smiles that Clint so rarely saw on the alpha. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Co—” Coulson silenced Clint with a finger on his lips.

“It’s Phil.” Coulson—no, Phil—said, still smiling.

“Phil.” Clint said, rolling the name on his tongue, as if trying it on for size. It felt… right, in a way he’d never felt before. “I love you too, Phil.”

It was a strange feeling, Clint thought as he sat there, snuggled up against Phil, their work entirely abandoned in deference of their declarations. It was a strange feeling to find that everything he’d ever wanted in life were all of a sudden a reality. It was strange, but Clint felt like he could really get used to it, this newfound equilibrium.

 

~*~

 

Baby Thomas Nikolai Barton-Coulson was born eight months later, a day shy of Christmas after ten hours of labour. Phil held Clint’s hand the entire way through.

He kept telling himself that he needed to be brave for Clint, because his mate needed him there, but even he had to admit at one point that he would never be strong enough to be an omega and a mother.

He fell in love with his baby boy the moment the nurse put him in his hands. His son was a perfect mixture of the two of them, with Clint’s startling blue eyes and Phil’s cheekbones, with a smile so wide Phil knew he’d do literally anything to make him happy.

Sitting on the bed next to his worn-out but content mate, Phil’s heart swelled with a kind of happiness that only his family could bring. He couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss Clint, gentle but no less passionate.

“Marry me, Clint.”


End file.
